Homecoming
by deliarium
Summary: There were very, very few things in life that could get Connor McKinley more excited than Christmas.


There were very, very few things in life that could get Connor McKinley more excited than Christmas.

Of course, loving Christmas wasn't exactly the most _unpopular _opinion to hold as a young Mormon twenty-something…but every year, as the trees shed their remaining bits of foliage and radio stations everywhere began blaring Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey, Connor's heart would swell with blissful anticipation. He loved virtually everything about the holiday season – caroling for canned goods and charitable donations with other young people in his ward – shopping for the _perfect_ gifts to distribute to all his friends – seeing Temple Square go up in lights – inhaling the sweet scents of pine and peppermint and fresh gingerbread cookies baking in the oven – spotting the first signs of snowfall drifting through grey skies – so on, and so forth.

The last Christmas he had spent in Uganda had been especially wonderful. There had been no snow, no Christmas tree, no elaborate decorations, nor any of the other usual festive trappings as the missionaries of District Nine attempted to spread yuletide cheer around the village, while simultaneously enduring the sticky heat. In the end they'd all gathered together with the villagers for a modest but still fairly impressive Christmas dinner, which had come off of an unusually bountiful harvest season, and the atmosphere had been light and full of music and laughter. As their ordained prophet, Arnold had cheerfully regaled them all with the nativity story (with several notable embellishments, including how Mary's selfless sacrifice for Baby Jesus had led to the downfall of Warlord Voldemort). And Mafala had given a moving grace prayer thanking "Eebowai" many times over for his beloved daughter, for all the loved ones they had untimely lost to disease, and for all those they had gained over the past year, and he had prayed that Heavenly Father would grant them all continued success in spreading the joyful word of the Book of Arnold.

Connor remembered occasionally glancing over at Kevin, who had been sitting next to him and nodding along emphatically, his head tilted in prayer. And he remembered the touch of Kevin's warm hand quietly slipping into his under the table as the rest of them gave their thanks, and how in one glorious rush Connor had truly _felt_ God's divine presence and grace radiate from every corner of the room, filling him with an indescribably light-headed happiness that tingled to his fingertips.

And as he'd fondly gazed around the table, at all the people whom he'd come to regard as his close friends – his _best_ friends, even – it had slowly dawned on him how incredibly fortunate he was, and how very, very blessed.

But _this_ year…

This year, for once in his life, Connor couldn't be in _less _of a mood for Christmas.

He finished unraveling another roll of snowflake-patterned gift wrapping paper and placed his chin in his hand, a somewhat dramatic sigh escaping from his lips.

Mittens, the McKinleys' family cat, took the opportunity to nuzzle his ankle and give a little forlorn meow from underneath the dinner table. Connor scooped her onto his lap and stroked her golden fur absently as she purred and curled up into a contented ball of fluff. Outside, the wind continued to wail viciously against the window pane, and snow was starting to fall rather heavily, cloaking the streets of the suburban neighborhood with a shimmering layer of whiteness. Even the sight of that wasn't enough to pull Connor out of the crummy funk he had fallen into.

_Home for the holidays, _he thought glumly as he stirred the last of his hot cocoa and brought the rim of the mug to his mouth_. _Technically speaking, anyway.

Home from BYU, with its seemingly never-ending whirlpool of papers and exams, theatre auditions and subsequent rehearsals, firesides and sacrament meetings. He should be feeling relieved for the break from it all, but…the truth was, he had secretly welcomed having all those distractions to keep him busy. Ever since returning from Uganda earlier that year, he had constantly been looking for things to keep himself distracted, any excuse to distance himself from the privacy of his own thoughts. Thoughts that could sometimes be – not very pleasant. So he'd tried to do what had always seemed to work for him in the past – which was to push them aside and ignore them completely. (At times, it had almost even worked.)

Trying to adjust back to the mainstream LDS community hadn't been very easy, after two years of almost breathtaking freedom from all its rules. Connor smiled to himself, thinking back longingly of sunshine-filled days and laughing, bright-eyed young missionaries with a penchant for tap-dancing…and yes, sometimes there had been pain and sadness then too, but there had been _friendship_; there had been hope and love and nearly boundless optimism all around, and despite all the ridiculous predicaments they'd often found themselves getting into, it had been the most religious, the most spiritually fulfilled he'd ever felt in his entire life.

Whenever he'd been alone in his college dorm room at the end of the day, he would mostly just lie huddled up in bed, reminiscing over photographs taken from his mission, and something inside his chest would tighten painfully from the bittersweet nostalgia. He still kept in touch with most of the other missionaries through the occasional exchange of texts, a Skype chat now and then, but it wasn't nearly the same. There was a strange emptiness inside him that couldn't totally be filled, even by all his former friends.

Coming home for winter break hadn't done much to improve his mood, either…though it _was_ rather nice to see his family again, to hug his sister and sleep in his own room and play board games together in the evenings, pretending that it was just like old times. Sometimes – maybe it was a teensy bit rude of him to think this – sometimes, he wished all that could come without the frequent hints and admonitions from his parents that he always had to patiently endure, like tiny needles poking underneath his skin (_you shouldn't carry yourself like that, dear, people will get the wrong impression…I don't know if switching majors is such a good idea, darling, theatre isn't a very – well, it's not a practical degree...Harold and Susan got married right after he finished serving his mission, you know, it's never too early to start looking…_). He _did_ love them so very dearly, of course, because they were his family and all…but a person could only take so much before bursting. And Connor McKinley had never been one to burst – he simply _behaved_ and did as he was told, like a good Mormon boy.

At the moment, though, the rest of his family was out in the city hunting for a Christmas tree. Normally this was a tradition Connor wouldn't miss for the world, but this time he'd declined, having promised Mrs. Warner from next-door that he'd help wrap presents for their ward's seasonal charity gift drive. It was probably for the best, as far as his family was concerned. In spite of the fact that he was wearing his most fabulous sequined Christmas sweater, he had a feeling that he'd just bring the whole holly-jolly atmosphere down.

He knew that his parents sensed that he wasn't entirely the same after coming back from his mission. There was something…_different_ about him, he'd overheard his mother say to one of her friends the other day, as they were knitting scarves and sweaters for the Relief Society. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he was definitely more subdued, less talkative than before. _He doesn't smile as often as he used to – you remember how much of a cheerful boy he was – and he never tells us anything about his mission at all, even when we ask. I wonder if I should have the bishop come have a talk with him…_

_It'll pass,_ her friend had replied. _It happens…young people, you know, they go gallivanting around the world and come back acting as though their lives have completely changed for it…_

_That's true…I'm just a bit concerned that something might have happened to him while he was away…_

Maybe his mother was right, Connor mused as he grabbed a large pair of scissors and started listlessly snipping away at the gift wrapping paper. The thing was, he really hadn't had a reason to "turn it off" in ages, ever since that day Kevin Price had talked him and the other missionaries into serving out the rest of their mission in Uganda. And it was slowly dawning on him that…he wasn't good at that old "trick" of his anymore.

Well – maybe he'd never_ really_ been good at it, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. But at least he'd been able to fake it passably, to smile and deny and perform until it eventually became habit, a reflex of sorts that infiltrated practically every action, every breath he drew. It hadn't been real happiness, he knew that now, and there were times when it had been horribly suffocating…but it had been enough to shield him from the judgmental looks of others at school and at church, had kept him from falling apart at the seams during worthiness interviews with the bishop _– sit up straight, fix your shirt, keep still, don't let them see, don't let them suspect_…

And then, everything in Uganda had happened, undermining all that he'd worked so hard to achieve those past several years. Kevin Price and Arnold Cunningham had arrived _– _and in the process had turned their little district upside down, changing everything.

_He_ had changed, too. For the first time in ages, Connor had felt genuinely, exhilaratingly at peace with himself; he could dance and sing as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted, without fear of being reprimanded for it. He'd had friends who had adored and respected him as their leader, who hadn't turned away or treated him any differently once he'd come out – or even when he had burst into tears immediately afterward because he'd been so terribly scared, and he'd just felt so _relieved_ about not having to hide it any longer.

He had finally known what it like to believe – really believe – in a God who was all-loving, merciful, and good. And against his better judgment, he'd even – Connor blushed suddenly, and his hands trembled a little with the scissors – he'd fallen in _love_.

All of that now…felt almost like another life. Like a dream that had been too wonderful to be real.

Connor glanced quickly, then despairingly at the clock – it was a quarter past six, and there was still a substantial stack of toys and stuffed animals left to gift-wrap. _Time to get moving_, he thought, a sudden flare of panic surging up inside him. Mrs. Warner would be coming to pick up the presents any time tonight, and Connor always dreaded disappointing people.

Since nobody was around to judge him, he cranked up the volume dial on the stereo a few notches and sang along to "Baby It's Cold Outside" (both sides of the duet) as he danced a little in his seat. This, at least, managed to lift his spirits temporarily as he gift-wrapped half a dozen toys and lovingly fastened them with sparkly gold ribbon, which would hopefully make some needy children very happy that Christmas. He tied a ribbon in his hair just for the heck of it and tried to put one on Mittens as well, but she clawed it away with a disapproving yowl. He giggled at that and then sighed again, as the good mood dissipated.

He shouldn't be feeling so down this time of year, he silently chided himself. There were just _so_ many things to be happy about in the wintertime. Ice skating, for starters...making snow angels…building gingerbread houses...later, he would snuggle up on the couch with some blankets and watch _Elf_ and _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ with his sister, and they'd cry when Charlie Brown broke out into song with the others at the end, just as they did every year. He would go to church and sing along to the congregational hymns and help out with setting up the annual Christmas pageant, as he also did every year, and he _would_ try his best to cheer up and be merry this holiday season, and…

_You're not fooling anyone_, Mittens seemed to purr at him, leveling at him an accusatory stare.

"I suppose you're right," Connor said, petting her behind the ears. Maybe…he should just come right out with facing that _thing_ that was persistently niggling in the back of his mind, try as he might to ignore it.

Kevin had been due to come back from Uganda several weeks ago, and Connor hadn't heard anything from him since.

Well, there it was.

He stretched his arms out over his head and let out a slow, almost relieved exhalation, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was – lonely! _That_ was the name for the feeling.

He'd tried so hard to avoid thinking too much about Kevin these past few months, but his thoughts tended to circle back to him eventually. But really, how _could_ they not? He and Kevin had grown extremely close during their time together in Uganda, even closer than he'd dared to hope for. It made him smile wistfully to recollect, all those months of hopeless crushing and flirting and yearning and never really believing that someone like Kevin Price (strait-laced, former poster boy of Mormonism) would ever reciprocate – and then, to discover one day that the other elder secretly liked him back...it had been like something out of a fairy tale. A fairy tale in which he, Connor McKinley, could win the heart of the handsome prince and live happily ever after. (That last part, of course, was still pending.)

And he would be lying if he said that he hadn't been mentally counting down the days, fantasizing about the circumstances of their reunion. Some days it had been the only thing keeping him going at BYU – that small, guilty spark of hope warming his insides like a candle flame, making his cheeks burn occasionally from the _indecency_ of certain ideas that insisted on creeping into his consciousness. Though that hope was dwindling steadily as the days continued to pass, with not a single word from Kevin.

A few times Connor had worked up the courage to call Kevin's home number, unable to stand the wait any longer, but it was always one of Kevin's siblings who picked up at the other end, their voices cheerily apologetic. _I'm sorry, __Kevin's not here right now. Would you like me to leave him a message?_

_No, it's fine. Thank you. _And then he would hang up and continue waiting, wishing that he'd left something.

It was entirely possible, he supposed, that Kevin was just busy making the rough transition back to life in America. Still…part of him couldn't help but worry that maybe something had happened. Was it so unreasonable for him to hope that Kevin hadn't forgotten already, or that he hadn't changed his mind about their relationship after coming home? Utah was very different from the life they'd shared back in Uganda...he wouldn't be totally surprised if Kevin ended up being pressured to return to his old way of life. True, he might be a little disappointed by that...a little hurt, maybe...okay fine, he'd be _devastated_ – but not surprised. He'd been forced back into the closet too, after all.

"Don't worry, I'll come for you when I get back," Kevin had promised the last time they'd been alone together, the night before Connor's scheduled plane trip back to America. He was resting his head on top of Connor's, and Connor had his chin tucked between Kevin's neck and shoulder, sitting with his knees raised up on Kevin's threadbare cot bed. They were both done with shedding tears over their impending separation, having moved onto heavy-hearted acceptance. "We both go to BYU. It won't be so hard to see each other there."

"We won't be allowed to _date_ there," Connor reminded him. "You know that."

"Well, we can always look into transferring somewhere else." Kevin gazed up at the ceiling, his brow deepening in thought. "Arnold goes to UVU – that's one option, I guess. And that way the three of us can stay together. Nabulungi too, if she ends up deciding to come."

"That would be nice," Connor said, attempting a small smile. "But I doubt it'll be easy, convincing our families and everything."

"No, it probably won't be," Kevin admitted. "It'll be worth it, though. I mean…" He turned his head back towards Connor and pressed his hand, in a way that could even be described as bashful (a term one did not often associate with Kevin Price). "...I think _you're_ worth it."

Connor suddenly rose up on his hands and kissed the tip of Kevin's nose. "Well, _I_ think you're worth it, too."

_Was_ he still worth it to Kevin, though? Sometimes that question was enough to keep him up at night, and he'd idly wonder whether he had just imagined it all. Kevin's radiant smile, which alone was potent enough to fill Connor's stomach up with quivering butterflies...his unabashedly earnest idealism...his kind of endearingly dorky dancing...Connor even missed squabbling with him over petty things, like when Kevin had stayed out too long past curfew, or had drunk a little too much coffee and spent the whole rest of the day wobbling and irritably snapping at everyone. He missed the childish way Kevin would sulk when he didn't get what he wanted, missed the way his face would light up when he gushed about Orlando, missed the feeling of Kevin's arms holding and comforting him after a bad dream (_Heavenly Father doesn't hate you, and I don't, either_), missed their nights of clumsy, ecstatic fumbling around and experimenting in secret, and nights of just sweetly kissing and cuddling while they read from the Book of Arnold together, Kevin's fingers trailing through his hair...

Whenever things had gotten a little uncomfortable at BYU – often it was a casual homophobic remark from another student or professor that would make the hair on his skin bristle, a reaction that he still found a bit surprising – he'd tell himself that everything would be different once Kevin got back home. That maybe then, he would finally be brave enough to come out to everyone and formally resign from the church. If their families didn't accept their relationship, they'd go somewhere else and start a life together. They'd change schools and join a new, more accepting church and maybe even get a dog, because Kevin's parents had never let him have one. And they'd be so wonderfully happy. It wouldn't be perfect, but they'd be happy.

If Kevin didn't end up coming...Connor didn't know what he would do. But he _had_ to do something. There was no way he could continue living like this, suppressing who he was, trying to slot himself back into a life that never really fit him, as much as he'd tried and prayed for it to. Deep down, he wanted something more…darn it, he _deserved_ something more.

He spent twenty more minutes determinedly trying to finish up rest of the presents when the doorbell rang. It was likely Mrs. Warner coming to pick up the presents, he thought, though it was somewhat earlier than he'd expected.

Connor threw a dejected look toward the small pile of unwrapped toys he hadn't gotten around to. It probably served him right, wasting all that time feeling sad…he would have to apologize profusely and ask for more time.

"Feelings really aren't good for anything, are they?" he sighed to Mittens, who simply meowed back. Connor took that as an agreement and scratched her neck.

He slowly wended his way over to the foyer (the doorbell rang a second time – "I'm coming!" he called out) and cracked open the front door. A chilly gust of wind immediately swooshed across the threshold, making him clutch at himself involuntarily and shiver.

Mrs. Warner was not outside. Instead, there was a boy standing alone on the porch, gazing out towards the darkened street with his hand shoved into his pocket. His grey wool cap and navy parka were dappled with flakes of snow, which was drifting down more lightly now. Beyond the porch, the dazzling lights of LED lawn displays had begun to twinkle all around the neighborhood, each one more extravagant than the last.

Connor stared for a long moment at the visitor's partially hidden profile, feeling his breath catch like a hard lump in his throat. The porch light was very dim, yet he could make out a few strikingly familiar features...but no…it couldn't possibly be…?

Then the boy turned around and smiled, a smile that contained in it a trace of a question, and Connor _knew._

_"Kevin!"_

Before the cry had even fully left his mouth, Connor had pounced onto Kevin and flung his arms around the other boy's neck, causing Kevin to stagger backward from the impact ("Whoa!"). Connor began enthusiastically peppering his mouth with kisses, one after another, and he felt Kevin's hand circle around to cup the back of his head, sending his insides into a wild frenzy of somersaults. He tugged at Kevin's cap and tossed it aside in one careless swoop, allowing his hands to roam through Kevin's perfect, perfect hair, touching him, tasting him, as if desperately trying to convince himself that Kevin was _real_ and that he was _here, _here with_ him..._

"Um…wow," Kevin finally breathed out, pulling away with a grin. His nose and cheeks were flushed pink, whether from the cold or sheepishness or both, Connor didn't know. "I guess I don't have to ask whether you missed me, huh."

"More than I can possibly say." Connor pressed a fervent kiss to Kevin's forehead, and his hands fell to Kevin's shoulders, squeezing them as he gazed, still disbelievingly, at his boyfriend's face. He was eagerly drinking in everything, wanting to bask in the blissful glow of their reunion. Kevin's soft brown hair was neatly trimmed and perfect – he must have gotten a haircut in the past few days – but other than that he hadn't changed at all, appearance-wise. Connor was overcome with a powerful urge to run his hands through that beautiful hair again and muss it a little more, but he restrained himself.

"Are those for _me_?" he exclaimed suddenly, spotting the bouquet of pink roses Kevin was holding by his side. Kevin glanced down, seeming to have momentarily forgotten about them.

"No, they're for your parents. Of course they're for you, dummy." He swatted Connor's shoulder with the flowers and tossed them over to him. Connor hugged them to his chest, taking a whiff of their fragrance and sighing happily.

He was _very_ tempted to kiss Kevin again, when he heard the sound of laughter issuing from behind them. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from Kevin to peer around for the source of it.

"Surprise!" Nabulungi Hatimbi's smiling face popped out from behind Kevin's back, followed suit by Arnold Cunningham's. They were sporting matching elf hats, tiny bells jangling from the ends, and Nabulungi was cradling with her an armful of presents.

"I can't believe you guys are here, too!" Connor cried out, sliding past Kevin to sweep Nabulungi in for a hug, which she returned with a squeal of delight. "You look so lovely, Sister."

"And you are very sweet, _Brother_," Nabulungi giggled in reply, smooching his cheek and then handing him a few prettily wrapped gifts. "Merry Christmas! Don't worry, it's not a frog this time," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh...thank you," he said, only too vividly recalling last year's "incident."

"Hey, don't I get a hug?" Arnold said, grinning at them.

"Of course. How could I deny our _amazing_ prophet anything, after all?" Connor replied with a choked laugh. He laid down the presents and Kevin's roses on the porch bench and turned to embrace him as well.

"And don't you forget it." Arnold beamed over Connor's shoulder.

"He never lets us," Kevin said, rolling his eyes. Nabulungi laughed, tilting her head and swaying merrily from side to side. Connor was incredibly thankful that it was dark, as he was struggling not to bawl from happiness at seeing three of his best friends in the entire world again.

"Why didn't any of you _tell_ me you were coming?" he demanded, swiveling around to pout at Kevin specifically.

"We wanted to surprise you," Kevin said, breaking into his sincerest Mormon missionary smile, which was making it difficult for Connor to keep up the pretense of being mad at him. "Nabulungi almost ruined it though – she's been texting almost everyone since we got here and Arnold showed her what an iPhone was."

"But it's so _fun_, Kevin," Nabulungi insisted, shaking her head. "We should text all the time, Connor. I'm really good at it now."

"And your families are okay with you spending Christmas here?" Connor asked, looking at Arnold and Kevin.

The two former mission companions exchanged significant looks.

"Define _okay_..." Arnold began, coughing into his fist.

"I...kind of told them about us," Kevin said in a low voice, taking one of Connor's hands in his and linking their fingers together. "It's a long story, but a while back we were arguing about my not wanting to go to church anymore, and I, uh, came out to them, accidentally."

"Oh no." Connor's other hand flew to his mouth. "How'd they take it?"

"Let's just say it's been a rough couple of weeks at home," Kevin sighed, skimming a hand through his hair. "I've been staying at Arnold's for the meantime, till it all blows over – "

"_That's_ been fun though, right, pal?" Arnold said, elbowing Kevin's side. "It was like having a sleepover, and we marathoned every Doctor Who episode I missed while we were away. You were missing out, Connor."

"Yeah, I guess it _was_ pretty fun...anyway, so that's why I haven't been getting in touch lately. Sorry about that."

"I understand," Connor said, clasping Kevin's hand tightly.

"And _my_ folks still aren't too pleased about what happened during our mission," Arnold added, in a somewhat glum voice. Nabulungi stroked his arm in gentle circles, and Connor suddenly remembered, with a slightly guilty pang, that she no longer had any family to spend Christmas with – not since Mafala's passing.

She smiled at him, as if having read his mind.

"No matter what happens, we are all still each other's family," she said, touching his shoulder. "That is what the Book of Arnold says, right? We are one family, eternally connected by faith, love...and The Force."

"Right. Praise Yoda," Arnold agreed. "We'll be there for each other, always. Group hug?" Nabulungi and Connor immediately went forth to oblige his request; Kevin sighed, but allowed the others to drag him into the hug anyway.

"Boy, I am _so_ hungry," Arnold announced, the sound of his rumbling stomach quickly shattering the moment.

"We'll be having dinner soon, once my family gets back," Connor laughed, as he pulled back. Then he hesitated, glancing over uncertainly at Kevin. "I don't think my parents will mind having a few guests tonight, as long as they don't know that…well, you know."

"It's _Christmas_, almost, and we're fellow Mormons – they can't just turn us away," Kevin said, without a beat.

"Okay." Connor smiled, and Kevin smiled, and neither of them said anything else.

"Let's leave them alone," Nabulungi said suddenly to Arnold, in a slightly loud, knowledgeable whisper.

"Wait, why…oh, right." Nabulungi grabbed his hand, and as Arnold followed her into the house, he wiggled his eyebrows at Kevin, who took the mature route of sticking his tongue out.

There were a hundred things Connor wanted to ask, wanted to tell him, but he pushed them all aside for now because Kevin was _here,_ and that meant Connor would no longer be alone. They walked around together in the snow for several minutes, holding hands and admiring all the Christmas lights glittering around the neighborhood (Connor enjoyed seeing the awestruck look spread gradually over Kevin's face, as Kevin loved the holiday season perhaps even more than _he_ did). A spontaneous desire to dance sprung upon Connor at one point, and he indulged it shamelessly, twirling around with his face turned up towards the sky, the cool snow grazing his skin and dripping onto his tongue. He instantly felt freer and lighter than he'd felt in a long, long time.

"It's been...so hard these past few months," Connor confessed, as they started heading indoors. "I've missed you all so much."

"Especially me?" Kevin smiled.

"Especially you," Connor said, then lowered his eyes. "For a while I was worried that I wouldn't ever see you again...but maybe that was silly of me."

Kevin seemed to understand. "I thought about you every day, while we were apart. Even more than I thought about Orlando. And I _always_ think about Orlando."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," Connor replied, his voice welling up with emotion. He wrapped his arms around Kevin's waist and buried his face in Kevin's parka.

"Merry Christmas, Connor," Kevin said quietly, and Connor knew, in his heart, that it would be.


End file.
